


Put Your Head On My Shoulder

by SharkGirl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anniversary, Cute, Dates, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Murphy's Law, Stressed Hunk (Voltron), Sweet, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 03:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13673334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkGirl/pseuds/SharkGirl
Summary: “Speaking of anniversaries,” Pidge said before pausing to lick a few crumbs from their fingers. “Isn’t yours coming up soon?”Hunk froze mid-stir and replaced the lid on the gently bubbling sauce. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten about his and Lance’s anniversary or anything like that. It was just that… well… It had sort of sneaked up on him.A Secret Valentine's Exchange Gift for Jazzy~♥





	Put Your Head On My Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Glimmerystarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glimmerystarlight/gifts).



> This year, I participated in the Hance Secret Valentine's Exchange and I was partnered with my very good friend Jazzy!! (What are the odds?!) I really hope you like this~♥
> 
> Beta'd by the fabulous and talented Jes (@francowitch) Thanks for putting up with me!  
> And a special shout out to Alex for kicking my butt on pacing~  
> Please enjoy!!

The sauces were simmering, the roast was in the lower oven – leaving plenty of room for the soufflés in the top – and the cookies were cooling on racks. Everything was going according to plan and perfectly on schedule. Not a thing was out of place…

Save for the small, fine-boned hand sneaking closer to the freshly baked cookies.

“Nope!” Hunk said, whacking the offending hand on the knuckles with his wooden spoon.

Pidge hissed and cradled their injured hand to their chest. “I was just going to test them for quality,” they replied with a slight frown. They had taken up an almost permanent residence in his and Lance’s apartment ever since exam season had started, opting to study there, as it ‘felt more like home’ and was a lot less noisy than their dorm room.

“Those,” Hunk began, gesturing toward the treats neatly lined up in rows, “are for the Hedrick anniversary party.” He crossed his arms over his chest, giving Pidge a stern look before the smile he was trying so desperately to hold back finally broke through. “I made _these_ for you,” he said, pulling out a tin full of peanut butter cookies that he’d baked off just before he began preparing for his seemingly endless amount of orders.

After successfully catering several events on his own after college, Hunk opened up his own business, cooking everything in his and Lance’s kitchen – which he’d given a few upgrades, including the double wall oven. Not that he’d shared that little tidbit of information with the super.

They probably weren’t getting their security deposit back.

But he was happy and doing what he loved. It paid the rent and put food on the table – literally – and, as stressful as it was, especially at busy times like this, it was so much better than when he worked for the catering company. Now he could dictate his own schedule and make time for the things that were most important.

“Speaking of anniversaries,” Pidge said before pausing to lick a few crumbs from their fingers. “Isn’t yours coming up soon?”

Hunk froze mid-stir and replaced the lid on the gently bubbling sauce. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten about his and Lance’s anniversary or anything like that. It was just that… well… It had sort of sneaked up on him. But a quick glance at the calendar revealed that he still had a few days.

“I’m surprised you remembered,” he mused, moving to check on the roast.

Pidge made a show of rolling their eyes. “Like I could forget,” they complained. “Lance has only been going on and on about it for weeks.” They placed their elbows on the counter and rested their hands on their interlaced fingers. “Plus, you’re the only two lovey dovey, goo-goo-eyed dopes I know whose anniversary is on _Valentine’s Day_.” They snorted.

So, maybe it was a little cliché. But Hunk didn’t mind. In fact, he thought it was sweet. The kind of story you told your grandchildren.

It was Valentine’s Day two years earlier when Lance had come to Hunk with a request.

“Please,” he’d said, batting his baby blues and jutting out his lower lip in a way he knew Hunk couldn’t resist. “I need your culinary expertise!”

And Hunk, of course, weakened by powerful pining, had acquiesced and let him into his kitchen.

Lance unloaded pounds upon pounds of chocolate onto the counter, claiming that he would make as many hearts as it took until they were perfect.

And so, after hours of melting and tempering, molding and shaping – and sampling, too – they sunk down onto the tiled floor, their backs resting against the cabinets, as they closed their eyes and took a break.

“What do you think?” Lance held the chocolate heart in his hands. It wasn’t perfectly shaped. None of the ones he’d made had been. But each of its flaws was special because Lance had made it.

Yeah, yeah. He’d had it bad.

“Looks perfect,” Hunk lied, but didn’t feel too badly about it when Lance beamed in response.

“You think so?” he asked, biting his lower lip, which still had a few flecks of chocolate stuck to it from their earlier taste testing. But Hunk blinked and tore his gaze away.

“Absolutely.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sure they’ll love them.”

It wasn’t the first time Hunk had helped his best friend with a huge romantic gesture for a person he liked. Lance loved love. And Hunk loved Lance. So, he’d do anything for him.

“That’s good then,” Lance said, voice suddenly soft, almost hesitant. It was enough to draw Hunk’s attention back to him. “Here.” Lance offered Hunk the heart, a bright flush on his cheeks. “I…I made this for you.”

Hunk raised his brows and looked down at the lopsided, partially melted chocolate. “But…that’s the best one,” he said, gaze darting over to the charred failures up on the counter. “Shouldn’t you save that for the person you like?”

“I, uh…” Lance swallowed. “I did?”

It took a bit. But then, in a moment of clarity, it all clicked. Hunk almost didn’t believe it. Not until they were both laughing, almost giggling, on the kitchen floor and exchanging chocolate-flavored kisses.

And the rest was history…

“So, what do you have planned?” Pidge interrupted Hunk’s stroll down memory lane.

He blinked rapidly and focused his attention on them. “Uh…”

Pidge quirked a brow. “Seriously?”

Again, it wasn’t that Hunk had forgotten. It was just that business had really picked up and he’d sort of completely failed to plan anything. At all.

As if sensing Hunk’s mounting panic, Pidge continued. “Well, what did you guys do last year?”

At that, Hunk relaxed his shoulders as a goofy smile spread on his face. “Oh, Lance arranged the best date,” he said with a dreamy sigh. “He got us tickets to the first annual Taste of the City mini-festival,” he explained.

“Taste of the City?” Pidge cocked their head to the side.

“Yeah,” Hunk went on. “It was amazing! There were all these booths set up on Central Street where the best of the best restaurants were offering small plates and wine pairings…” He grinned, his stomach gurgling at the mere memory of the succulent dishes.

“Sounds fancy,” Pidge mused.

“It was!” Hunk nodded. “I’m so glad Lance told me it was black tie,” he said. “I had to dust off my old tux from my brother’s wedding, but it got the job done.” He snorted. “And, wow, was the food amazing.” Then his face soured. “But I swear, I thought I was going to have a heart attack when Lance told me how much those tickets cost.” He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand.

“Yeah. He sort of goes all out, doesn’t he?” Pidge replied with a snicker. “What’d you end up getting him, again?” they asked.

Hunk pointed to a framed picture hanging on the wall between their television and bookcase. It was a map of the night sky, showing all of the constellations that were visible on the day they got together. It was super cheesy, but Lance had loved it.

“Oh, that’s right.” Pidge shook their head. “You think I would have remembered something so adorably corny.” But they were smiling. “So, you can’t get him the same gift, but the good food is definitely a start.”

“Yeah.” Hunk hummed to himself. “Oh, and dancing!” He beamed. “There was this live band set up and, after we finished eating, I still don’t know how Lance did it, but they started playing our song.”

He thought back to that night, remembering the way Lance felt in his arms, swaying from side to side and singing along with the words. _Put your lips next to mine, dear… Won't you kiss me once, baby?_

Pidge cleared their throat and Hunk blushed when they flashed him a knowing smile. “What?”

“Okay, so…good food and good music.” Pidge shrugged. “Seems simple enough.”

“Yeah,” Hunk replied, rubbing the back of his neck. The only problem was, the inaugural Taste of the City had been so popular that the second annual had sold out months ago. Plus, he didn’t want to copy Lance’s idea completely.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Pidge sighed, jumping off of the stool by the high counter and moving to lean against it. “Why don’t you just make him something?”

A full menu scrolled behind his eyelids for a moment before Hunk dismissed it. “He eats my cooking all the time,” he said. “I want this to be special.”

Pidge hummed and chewed on their bottom lip in thought. “Well, is there any place he’d want to go?”

Hunk thought about it, the perfect location popping into his head almost immediately. “There is that new Cuban place he’s been dying to try,” he said excitedly and then deflated. “But it’s been booked since it opened and I know it’ll be impossible to get reservations on Valentine’s Day.” He heaved a sigh and went back to stirring one of the sauces.

“C’mon,” Pidge encouraged. “You’re telling me that the Most Promising Up-and-Coming Caterer of 20XX doesn’t know anyone who can pull a few strings?”

The moment the words were out of their mouth, it was like a lightbulb lit above Hunk’s head. He’d met quite a few restaurant owners at the awards ceremony – yes, that was his official title, even if Pidge had said it in a somewhat mocking tone – and he was pretty sure one of them was the manager of the eatery in question.

“Just a sec!” he threw out as he rushed over to his desk in the corner. And, after looking through a rolodex of business cards – a Hanukkah present from Lance – he spotted the exact one he was looking for. He just hoped they’d be willing to do him this favor.

When he looked up, Pidge was hovering over the cooling racks.

“Didn’t I feed you enough?” Hunk chuckled, startling them.

“I was just looking at them,” Pidge retorted, throwing their hands up in the air.

“Look with your _eyes_ , Pidge…” But before he could scold them further, something began to beep. The roast was done and the soufflés weren’t far behind. He walked back over to the kitchen and turned the timer off. “Hey, you’re gonna help me load the van, right?”

But Pidge was already back on their laptop, headphones on, and studying hard.

Hunk affectionately rolled his eyes. “Guess I’ll make the deliveries on my own then,” he said with a slight shake of his head before glancing back down at the business card. He’d have to call them after work.

 

Time was a funny thing. And before Hunk knew it, it was the night before Valentine’s. He was just finishing up a few last-minute additions to a breakfast he was catering in the morning, when Lance walked through the door to their apartment.

The two had been so busy as of late that it felt like they hadn’t seen each other in ages.

“Hunky, I’m hooooome,” Lance sang as he made his way into the kitchen. “Wow, it smells amazing in here.”

“Sausage, egg, and cheese casserole,” Hunk replied, pulling one out of the oven. The rest were still wrapped and in the refrigerator, ready to be cooked off in the early morning before the event started, but he’d made a little extra with dinner – and his boyfriend – in mind. “Hungry?”

“Starved!” Lance replied, setting his jacket down and moving to grab plates and silverware. “And here I was just about to pick up Chinese on the way home,” he teased, setting their places before heading to the fridge. “Orange or cranberry juice?”

“Orange,” Hunk answered, giving the casserole a little shake to make sure it set. People didn’t generally eat them runny.

“No Pidge today?” Lance asked as he rummaged around, searching for the familiar carton amongst Hunk’s _mis en place_.

“Their exams finally started. I doubt we’ll see them for the rest of the week,” he answered without looking up, though he could imagine the fond little smile Lance no doubt had on his face. Pidge had practically become their third roommate over the past month. But enough about them. “How was work?”

“Awful,” Lance complained, his tone changing completely as he poured them glasses of juice. “I’m so glad I’m off tomorrow. I swear, if I see another spreadsheet, I’m going to jump out the window.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re only on the second floor,” Hunk replied, stifling a snicker.

“Hey, that could still do some serious damage,” Lance argued. Then he set the glasses down and walked back over. “But seriously, working all of these extra hours has been great for the ol’ bank account, but…” He was suddenly right behind Hunk, his long arms wrapping around his middle. “I’m in serious need of a recharge, if you catch my drift.”

Oh, Hunk understood perfectly. There was nothing that made him feel better, no better cure for what ailed him, than having an armful of Lance.

“C’mere,” Hunk said, turning around in his boyfriend’s embrace and pulling him close to his chest. Lance let out a contented little noise and then melted against him.

“Ah…that’s the stuff,” he mumbled into the fabric of Hunk’s apron. “So,” he began, pulling back just enough to look up at him, his blue eyes bright. “Shall we eat?”

Hunk chuckled and nodded. “Of course. Have a seat.”

 

Later, after their bellies were full and they’d caught up on most everything, Hunk finally found an opportunity to bring it up.

“So…tomorrow is our anniversary,” he began, not sure why he sounded so awkward.

Lance raised his brows, his eyes going wide for a fraction of a second before he smiled. “Is tomorrow the fourteenth already?” he gasped. “Wow, I can’t believe it!”

Hunk relaxed. So he wasn’t the only one the calendar had sneaked up on.

But then Lance barked out a laugh and slapped his knee hard. “Just kidding.” He flashed Hunk a dazzling smile. “Like I could possibly forget. I’ve been thinking about it since New Year’s.”

“Oh.” Hunk gnawed on his bottom lip. Maybe he should have brought up his plans sooner. What if Lance already had something extravagant arranged for them?

“But, since I sort of went all-out last year…” Lance lowered his gaze shyly, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I figured a quiet evening at home might be more appropriate?”

Now, Hunk wasn’t sure what to do. He’d spent over an hour on the phone while the manager tried to squeeze in a table for two anywhere in their packed reservation book.

“You look like you have something planned, though,” Lance interrupted his thoughts and when Hunk turned toward him, his boyfriend looked hopeful and – dare he think it – excited? Maybe it wasn’t a total loss, after all.

“Yeah, I, um,” he floundered, but then recovered when Lance reached out and put a hand over his. “You know that new Cuban place we’ve been wanting to try?”

“No way!” Lance shot out of his seat, his eyes going wide. “You got us reservations at Yuniel’s?!” He released Hunk’s hand in order to run it through his own hair. “Babe, that’s…that’s amazing! You’re not, like, messing with me, right?”

Hunk shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t-”

“How did you even?” Lance was pacing now. “And I thought my present-” but he interrupted himself by shaking his head. “This is amazing. _You’re_ amazing.” He returned to the table and looped his arms around Hunk’s neck before peppering the side of his face with kisses. Then he abruptly pulled away. “What am I going to wear?” he gasped and then took off toward their bedroom.

Hunk sat there for a moment, gaze still firmly planted on where Lance’s form had disappeared. Then, a second later, his boyfriend peered around the doorframe.

“I’m going to be trying on outfits for a bit,” he explained, ducked back in, and then immediately popped back out. “Did I mention that you’re amazing?” And then he was gone again, the sound of hangers being roughly shoved to the side barely muffled by the apartment’s thin walls.

Well, Hunk supposed as a slow smile spread on his face. He’d done the right thing, after all.

But before he could properly congratulate himself, his phone began to ring. It was his client for breakfast. He quickly answered, not wanting to keep them waiting.

 

After Hunk ended the call, he walked toward his and Lance’s bedroom filled with a sense of trepidation and uncertainty, his client’s words replaying in his head:

_I know it’s last-minute, but some friends of ours are arranging a luncheon down the street and their original catering plans fell through. We’ve loved working with you and told them how wonderful and professional your services are. Do you think you could squeeze them in? I have their number, if you don’t mind giving them a call._

Deep down, Hunk knew he should take the job. Money was money, but more than that, since his business was still in its infancy, exposure was so important for him. He sighed and hesitated when he reached the doorway, spying Lance assessing a veritable mountain of clothes on their bed. Although, on closer inspection, all the tops and bottoms were paired.

Hunk stood there vacillating a moment long before he stepped inside the bedroom.

“No, this is not going to work,” Lance said, drawing Hunk’s attention. “Nope. Not one of these.” He shook his head. Then he picked up two purple dress shirts and held them up by the hangers, alternating which one he hovered just below his chin. “Which do you-” but Lance stopped when he met Hunk’s gaze, his brow furrowing. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

Lance may have been an open book, but Hunk had see-through pages.

“Uh…”

“Is it about that phone call?” He lowered the button-ups and stepped closer. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine, just…” Hunk took a deep breath. “It was my client for the breakfast tomorrow. Some friends of theirs want me to cater a lunch later in the day.”

“And you said yes, right?” Lance asked, not looking the least bit upset or disappointed. In fact, he made it sound like agreeing was the only option. “Babe, you’ve got to do it. And don’t pretend like you don’t already have a full menu in mind to pitch to them.” Lance smiled then, the knowing kind that caused Hunk’s heart to skip a beat.

“I know, but…our reservations…” Hunk sagged his shoulders.

“What time is the lunch?” Lance cocked his head to the side.

“It’s supposed to start around two,” Hunk answered.

“And our reservations?”

“Seven fifteen.”

“Well, I don’t see a problem.” Lance shrugged his shoulders. “You show up at one thirty, set everything up, schmooze with the clientele, hand out every business card you own, and then pick up the chafing dishes when they’re done.” He made it sound so simple. “Easy peasy. You’ll probably be finished before five.”

Lance had a point. “But it’s all the way on the other side of town,” Hunk added with another frown.

“So?” Lance offered. “Worst case scenario, I’ll meet you at the restaurant.” He closed the distance between them, stretching up onto his toes to press their lips together in a chaste and reassuring kiss. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

Hunk swallowed. “If you’re sure…”

“When have I ever been wrong?” Lance began and then immediately followed it with, “When it’s important!” He snorted. “Now, speaking of important…” He held up the two purple dress shirts again. “Violet or Lavender?”

 

The following morning, Hunk was up before the sun, getting everything together for his first event. He knew he’d have to come back for the luncheon items – which he’d whipped up late into the night after getting off the phone with his newest client.

Thankfully, the market was just down the street and had long hours.

After loading everything into the van, Hunk crept back upstairs and into their bedroom to give Lance a ‘goodbye’ kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you tonight,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the smooth skin at his hairline – the only bit not covered by his face mask.

“Mmmn…” Lance hummed in reply. He didn’t open his eyes, but one of his arms popped out of his blanket cocoon, his hand reaching blindly for Hunk’s. “Hpphy…annvrsrrry…” he mumbled and then his arm dropped to the mattress as he let out a snore.

He smiled down at his boyfriend’s slumbering form and then went off to work.

 

Hunk was good at what he did. He wasn’t one to brag, of course – Lance did that enough for him, often times in front of people they’d just met, going on and on about Hunk’s culinary prowess until his ears burned bright red – but he did a great job.

His clients were thrilled with how the breakfast had gone. Most of the items were set-up buffet-style, but Hunk did have to run the omelet station. It was one of his favorites. He liked interacting with the guests and giving them the full experience. Even if it meant that he had to wear his old server’s uniform.

“You’ve outdone yourself again!” his client cheered when she glided over to his station. “Everyone can’t stop talking about how wonderful everything is,” she said, beaming all the while. “And that casserole is to _die_ for! I must have the recipe.”

“I’ll attach it to the email with my survey,” Hunk replied, still not sure how to handle such high praise.

“Of course!” She bobbed her head enthusiastically. “And I think we know who’s getting a five out of five stars.” She winked and nudged him with her elbow. “Well, I should go check on my guests,” she said after a moment. “Oh, and thank you again for making room in your busy schedule for my old friends,” she added. “I thought they were going to go mad when their first plans fell through, the poor dears.”

Hunk just nodded along with what she was saying, as he hastily checked and rechecked the math for timing in his head. The breakfast would be over soon. Teardown would be easy enough. He needed to get back home and unload and reload the van. That should give him just enough time to get back onto this side of town and to the next venue before he needed to start his setup.

“Well, I’ll let you start closing down the buffet,” she said, breaking his concentration. “Besides,” she turned toward the crowd and an anxious-looking older gentleman, “apparently, I’m to be making a speech.” She shook her head and then she was gone, leaving Hunk to his work.

Small parties like this were wonderful. But if the guest lists got any longer, he’d need to bring on more staff. Pidge helped when they could and even Lance had tended bar during busy dinners – thanks to that four-week course he took on a whim courtesy of City Mixology – but Hunk was only one man.

Once he had everything packed, Hunk bid his clients farewell, swapped his invoice for their check, and then he was on his way.

 

Lance was not in their apartment when Hunk arrived, but there was a note on the kitchen counter informing him that his boyfriend had gone out to get some ‘Anniversary Supplies.’ Which could mean anything. And Hunk would have been content to let his mind wander, but he had a very tight schedule to keep.

Besides, Lance loved to surprise him.

So, he gathered up everything he needed for his next event and headed back over to the east side.

 

To say his luncheon clients were on-edge would be an extreme understatement. Whatever their event was for, it must have been something very important. They were flitting about, making sure everything was perfect, from the amount of forks on the buffet to the distance the chairs were from the table – something Hunk could appreciate, but as the venue had supplied everything, save for the food, he didn’t attempt to assist them.

The menu was pretty simple and the guests were to serve themselves, so once everything was in place, Hunk reached into his pocket to grab his business cards, but he stopped when one of his clients rushed over to him.

“There isn’t a pasta bar,” he said, voice nearing panic.

Hunk blinked. “Right.”

“There was supposed to be a pasta bar. A create your own pasta bar.” He swallowed, his hands shaking.

Now, when Hunk had spoken to the other client the night before, there was a mention of guests choosing their pasta and sauce, but it was only supposed to be on the buffet. In fact, he had two different types of pasta in chafers – tossed in olive oil because, what was he, new? – and a choice of Alfredo, Bolognese, and marinara sauce.

Hunk was halfway into gesturing toward his setup, when the man interrupted him.

“They can’t serve themselves!” he gasped out. “The salad and desserts, sure,” he corrected. “But the sauces will make a mess and I can’t have the luncheon ruined because someone spilled and I-”

“Calm down,” Hunk soothed, moving his hands in a placating motion. “Would you like me to see if the venue has enough staff to run a pasta station?”

The man nodded. “It’s extremely important that everything goes perfectly.”

“All right.” Hunk grinned. “I’m on it.”

But, as it turned out, there were only enough people working to bus the tables and refill drinks. And Hunk knew he couldn’t give his client bad news – from the looks of him, it might kill him – so, he begrudgingly did what he had to do. Luckily, his serving uniform was still in the van. He could quickly change and run the station himself.

“Thank you! Thank you!” the man practically shouted at him. “Now, just do…well, you know what to do. This is your profession.” He swallowed, looking a bit calmer than he had fifteen minutes earlier. “Now, I must go greet my donors. Please excuse me.” He took out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead before taking off toward the entrance of the ballroom.

Before the guests started filing in, Hunk sent Lance a quick text, letting him know what was going on. It shouldn’t delay him too much, but he wanted his boyfriend to be aware, on the off chance it did.

_‘Don’t worry about it,’_ Lance replied. _‘But, just in case, do you want me to swing by and help out?’_

Hunk could more than handle the job on his own, so he messaged back as such. Besides, he didn’t want to distract Lance from his ‘errands.’

_‘Okay, sounds good,’_ Lance answered. _‘Just let me know when you’re on your way. And good luck! Get schmoozing!!’_

Hunk chuckled and put his phone away. Their plans had changed a little – shifted really – but the rest of the afternoon should go smoothly.

 

Perhaps there _was_ such a thing as worrying too much. Hunk hadn’t thought so, but his clients were making him change his mind.

He was normally calm in a crisis – well, when it pertained to running an event – but they were driving him up a wall. Even after lunch was over and the dessert was plated and ready to go, they insisted that he personally hand out each dish – to ensure that no guests accidentally picked up something they were allergic to – despite all of the plates being clearly labeled.

And the longer he stayed, the longer they wanted him to stay, it seemed.

“You’re not leaving yet, are you?”

“We still have awards to distribute.”

It was almost as if they expected Hunk to walk them through their event every step of the way.

He wasn’t a party planner. He was a caterer. They’d ordered food, not a life coach.

 

It was nearly five by the time the guests began filing out. And Hunk only knew that because it was the first time he’d gotten a chance to check his phone since he’d messaged Lance. As it was, he had two missed texts, but he had to wait to respond until he finished with his clients.

“I can’t thank you enough,” the man said, color finally making its way back to his face now that it was all over. “You went above and beyond.”

“Truly!” the woman added. She’d been flitting about the entire time and had only spoken to Hunk in passing. “We’ll be sure to mention that in our review.”

“I appreciate that,” Hunk said with a smile. “Now, if you’re all set, I’d like to tear down the buffet and pack up.”

“Of course, yes!” they said in unison before the woman pulled out a check. “You’ll find that there’s a little extra.”

They had been a serious pain, but Hunk couldn’t find it in himself to be upset with them. This was clearly something really important. So, he simply nodded and took the check before pulling his phone out of his pocket.

_‘How’s it going?’_

_‘Running longer than they planned?’_

He read Lance’s messages with a sigh. At least his boyfriend didn’t sound upset. Of course, it was impossible to hear voice inflection in text form. He quickly reported back, letting Lance know that he was wrapping up and that he’d be on his way home soon.

A second later, he got a reply.

_‘Sounds good, babe! But I think we might be cutting it too close. I’ll meet you at Yuniel’s?’_

Hunk had really wanted to go together, take a cab for once, and arrive in style. But he knew it was too late for that now. So, he typed an affirmation and went back to cleaning up.

 

Forty-five minutes later, Hunk was ready to go. He checked his phone for the time. It wasn’t quite six. He had over an hour to get home, get changed, and get to the restaurant. Home was a thirty-eight minute drive – depending on traffic – and the restaurant was only twenty-three blocks away, which was maybe a two minute cab ride. That should leave him plenty of time to shower and change.

But that variable. Well, that really skewed the whole thing.

Traffic. And a lot of it.

The freeway was more or less a parking lot. And no matter how many times the car two lanes over honked angrily, that wasn’t going to change any time soon.

There wasn’t an accident, thank goodness, but the new construction had started ahead of schedule, causing the four-lane highway to quickly funnel down to one for a good three exits. It didn’t sound like a far distance, but people never could figure out how to zipper.

Hunk stared at the clock on his dash, watching as each minute ticked by. And with each one, he took something else off of his list. He could skip conditioning his hair. Lance wouldn’t mind. And maybe he could forgo shaving. He’d just done it that morning.

But the longer he sat, the more it seemed like he was either going to have to drive straight there in his sweaty, sauce-stained work clothes or he was going to be late.

At six forty-five, Hunk took out his cell and called Lance.

_‘Hey, babe,’_ he answered cheerily. _‘You on your way?’_

“Hardly,” Hunk sighed. “I’m still driving home.”

_‘Seriously?’_ Lance sounded more surprised than angry. That was good. _‘What’s going on?’_

“Lanes are closed.” He rubbed his forehead before sliding his palm down the length of his face. “I’ll be lucky if I get home by seven. _If_ this clears up before our exit.”

_‘Hey, don’t sweat it, Big Guy,’_ Lance said, his tone jovial. _‘I haven’t even been sat yet. You know how they are. We probably won’t really get a table until eight.’_ He laughed. _‘Just take it easy and get here when you can.’_

“Okay…” Hunk agreed, the corners of his lips quirking up despite the situation. Lance always seemed to know what to say. “I’ll see you there,” he said and then added, “And order some of that black bean hummus I keep hearing about. I’m starving.”

_‘You got it,’_ he replied with a chuckle. _‘Love you.’_

“Love you, too.” And then the call ended. Hunk stretched out his arms, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. The car in front of him inched forward.

At least they were moving.

 

It was seven-thirty by the time Hunk reached their exit. He’d already tried calling Lance twice, but he either had no reception in the restaurant or it was too loud to hear his ringtone. He sped as carefully as he could – not really intending to break any laws – and reached their apartment in record time.

However, just as he was about to turn into their parking garage, he spotted red and blue lights flashing just behind him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” he groaned, pulling over to the side of the road and smacking his forehead on the steering wheel.

As usual, when one was in a hurry, the officer took an unbelievable amount of time getting out of their patrol car. And Hunk hoped that was because they were already running his plates. Then they could just hand him his ticket and he could apologize and be on his way.

But when the officer finally knocked on his window, she was not holding a ticket in her hand. “Do you know why I pulled you over?” she asked, quirking a brow.

“Um…” Hunk faltered. He knew he was driving faster than he usually did, but he didn’t think he’d been speeding.

“Your right taillight is out,” she informed him. “Since you haven’t got any points on your license, I’m going to let you off with a warning.”

Hunk released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thank you, ma’am. Officer. Ma’am,” he floundered.

“Just make sure to get it fixed, all right?” she said with two gentle taps on the roof and then turned to walk away.

Hunk didn’t need to look at the clock to know how late it was. He just pulled into the garage and found his assigned commercial spot before taking out his phone.

He was surprised to see a message from Lance.

_‘I’m just going to head home, okay?’_

What did that mean?! Was he upset? Was he angry? Was he disappointed because Hunk couldn’t keep their date on their anniversary? Was he having second thoughts about their relationship?

Whoa. Okay. Reel it in. That was a little melodramatic, even for Hunk.

Still, he quickly found Lance’s number and brought his phone up to his ear, waiting on bated breath as it rang. Finally, on the seventh ring, Lance picked up. “Thank goodness,” the words escaped Hunk’s lips in a whoosh.

_‘Hey, babe,’_ Lance said, tone a little subdued. _‘You still in traffic? I saw your missed calls.’_

“No, I just parked in the garage,” he said, his gaze darting to the back of the van, where he had a bunch of empty pans that needed unloaded and cleaned. “Are you still at the restaurant? I can meet you-”

_‘I’m walking home,’_ Lance replied. _‘They really seemed like they wanted to turn our table, so…’_

“Oh, Lance, I’m…” Sorry? Was that good enough? Probably not. “Where are you? I’ll come meet you.”

_‘Don’t worry about it, Big Guy,’_ he said, sounding like he was smiling, even just a little bit. _‘I’m almost home. I’ll even help you unload the van.’_

Oh. “Okay. I’ll see you soon then.”

_‘See you soon.’_ Then the line was silent.

Hunk stared at his phone for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. He shifted his weight as he waited. But he was unable to stand still for long, and he ended up opening the back of the van and arranging the pans on his cart. At least that way, when Lance did arrive, they’d be all set to go upstairs.

A few minutes later, Lance appeared, wearing his dress clothes and holding a small white paper bag in one of his hands. He looked amazing – as always – and he’d used that product in his hair, the one that smelled like coconuts and sunscreen to Hunk. He could almost get a whiff of it from where he stood.  And the shirt Lance had chosen – was it violet or lavender? – complimented his skin tone perfectly. Lance looked absolutely wonderful.

He glanced up as he approached and smiled at Hunk. Then he lifted the bag a little higher and gave it a shake. “I had them wrap up the hummus.”

Guilt washed over Hunk. This was all his fault. He’d miscalculated. He’d taken the extra job. He’d failed to check his GPS for the lane closures and traffic. He’d kept Lance waiting and ruined their anniversary.

“Hey, stop that,” Lance interrupted with a frown.

“Stop what?” Hunk blinked in confusion.

“Beating yourself up for missing dinner,” he replied with a slight shake of his head. “You couldn’t help it and it’s not like our entire evening is a wash.” Lance held up the bag again. “I tried some while I was waiting.” He gave a wide grin. “It’s delicious.”

Hunk could have cried. How was Lance able to stay so positive when he’d royally messed up? But he didn’t cry, however. Because Hunk knew that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And that was the last thing they needed tonight. So, swallowing around the lump in his throat, he managed a shaky, “Sounds good.”

“Oh yeah,” Lance continued with a wink. “Now, let’s get all this stuff upstairs and then we can play a little music, eat a little hummus, and reheat last night’s casserole.” He placed the doggie bag in Hunk’s hands and then grabbed the handle of the cart.

Hunk stood there, watching as Lance walked toward the elevator.

“You coming?” Lance asked over his shoulder and then, as if someone lit a fire under him, Hunk shut the back of the van, locked the doors, and jogged to catch up with his chuckling boyfriend.

 

It didn’t take long to unload. Hunk had rinsed most of the pans at the venue, so only a few had to soak in the sink. The rest went straight into the dishwasher. And although it would take a few cycles to get them all washed – as he hadn’t yet figured out a way to install an industrial-sized dish machine in their apartment without the super finding out – it wouldn’t be too long.

“Here,” Lance said, picking up the little white bag from the counter. “You must be starving.”

“I’m not-” but Hunk’s traitorous stomach seemed to think that right then was the perfect time to let out an audible growl. He cleared his throat and flushed to his ears.

“See?” Lance snickered. “Now, go sit in the living room and start eating. I’ll heat up the leftovers.”

“Lance-”

“In the oven,” he finished with a roll of his eyes. “Because I respect food and would never taint it by using a microwave, a crime against culinary creations.”

Okay, so maybe Hunk had lectured him on the diminished quality of microwaved foods a few too many times over the years.

“Now,” Lance said again, putting his hands on his hips. “Go sit on the couch and I’ll preheat.” He turned to face the lower of the two wall ovens. “Three fifty, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Hunk answered, clutching the small bag and shuffling out of the kitchen. He padded into the living room and made himself comfortable on their couch. Then he reached into the bag and pulled out the tub of black bean hummus and a handful of plantain chips wrapped in parchment paper.

His mouth watered as he opened the container, the delicious aroma filling his nostrils. He was so engrossed in devouring half the appetizer, that he didn’t hear Lance walk into the room until his boyfriend was seated beside him, the couch dipping only slightly under his weight.

“Good, right?”

“Soooo gooood,” Hunk mumbled through a mouthful before swallowing. Then he frowned. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to try anything else on their menu…”

Lance waved his hand in dismissal. “No big,” he promised. “The important thing is that you’re home and we can finally start our anniversary dinner.” Then suddenly, without warning, Lance’s lips were right by Hunk’s ear, his warm breath wafting over his skin and stirring the hairs just above it. “And what’s dinner without a little…” he pulled back and bit his lip. And Hunk couldn’t tear his eyes away if someone’d paid him.

“A little…?” he repeated, unconsciously leaning closer and breathing in the scent of that coconut-y hair stuff. Hunk was suddenly very aware that it should be his teeth on Lance’s lip.

Lance met him halfway, his mouth hovering a hair’s breadth away before he whispered, “Dancing.” Then he was up and moving toward their stereo, his phone in his hand and his thumb scrolling through to find the perfect tune.

Hunk’s gaze flicked between the empty space where Lance had just been and where his boyfriend was now. Lance was smiling widely at him and offering his hand as a familiar song began to drift through the apartment.

_Put your head on my shoulder_ _… Hold me in your arms, baby…_

Finally recovering, Hunk stood up and took Lance’s offered hand, surprising him by spinning him around and pulling him close to his chest.

“You haven’t gotten rusty at all,” Lance mused, swaying to the music.

“Not after all those classes you forced me to take,” Hunk replied, lowering his free hand to press against the small of Lance’s back. “Money well spent,” he teased before Lance could say it.

Undeterred, his boyfriend simply beamed up at him. “Agreed.”

The music continued to play and Lance followed its instructions, resting his head on Hunk’s shoulder and letting out a contented sigh. “You know,” he said, after a moment. “I’m kind of glad you didn’t make it to dinner.”

Hunk drew back, furrowing his brow in confusion. “What?”

“I mean,” Lance continued. “That place was loud and fun. And they had these live dancers-” He looked up, eyes wide and sparkling. Then he cleared his throat. “But…I feel like this is more us.”

“Says the man who spent half our rent’s worth on tickets to a food festival last year,” Hunk countered.

“It was our _first_ anniversary!” Lance huffed with a little pout. “And…I wanted to do something special.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Hunk breathed, lowering his chin to rest on the top of Lance’s head. “That was amazing and I’ll never forget it.” He closed his eyes. “But you’re right…” He gave Lance’s hand a squeeze. “This is more us.”

Just then, the oven beeped, signaling that it was done preheating.

“I’d better go put the leftovers in,” Lance said, reluctantly starting to pull away.

“You know,” Hunk began, his grip tightening and keeping Lance in place. “We can probably wait a few more minutes.”

“Oh yeah?” Lance asked, falling back into step.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Or…” He pulled him even closer, looking down at him through hooded eyes. “We could wait a bit longer…”

The reaction was instantaneous. Lance’s smile grew impossibly wide, his eyes shining with mirth and a hint of mischievousness. “ _Oh?_ ” he said in a teasing tone that had Hunk’s face growing warm.

“Well, I didn’t necessarily mean-”

“Of _course_ not!” Lance feigned innocence. “But,” he said, placing his hands on Hunk’s shoulders and stepping up onto his tiptoes so he could whisper in his ear. “I wouldn’t mind going to the bedroom before dinner,” he breathed, giving Hunk’s earlobe a little nip. “After all, I was patient all night, but I’ve been _dying_ to show you your present.”

Lance released him and took a step back, toying with the top button of his purple dress shirt.

“So, what do you say, Big Guy?” He cocked his head to the side, popping the button open. “Wanna see them?”

Perhaps it was how hectic the day had been or maybe it was how eager Hunk was to please Lance after ruining their initial plans – or it could have been a combination of the two – but Hunk wasted no time bending down, wrapping his arms around Lance’s thighs, and throwing his boyfriend over his shoulder.

“Hunk!” Lance gasped out through a fit of giggles. “You _beast_!”

“Just eager to see my present,” Hunk said, his face burning hot in reaction to his own forwardness. But he cooled as Lance relaxed in his arms and let himself drape easily over his shoulder.

“Well, then.” Lance hummed, toying with the fabric of Hunk’s shirt. “Shall we?”

Without further ado, Hunk carried him off, Lance laughing all the while as he was unceremoniously dropped onto their bed. And later, when all was said and done, even if Hunk _had_ managed to make it to dinner on time _and_ out-danced everyone in the restaurant, Lance still would have taken the title of Best Gift-Giver for the second year in a row.

**Author's Note:**

> Technically the third year in a row ;)  
> Aww, I love these two so much.
> 
> EDIT: Oops, forgot to mention! Hunk and Lance's song is the title of the fic. [Original by Paul Anka](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TY4uxdAt4-M) (but they're probably dancing to the [Michael Buble](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18tl2FdtLs4) version)
> 
> Let me know what you think and hit me up on my Voltron side blog [@bleucheesy](http://bleucheesy.tumblr.com)!


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